Traditions
by nigerutmea anima
Summary: Bellatrix's sanity is tested during her first duel since Azkaban; rated for violence; One-shot


**For the Traditions Challenge on xoxLewrahxox's forum**

**Traditions**

We knelt, I alongside the rest, in what used to be my sister's grandest dining hall, a room blanketed in rolling white marble. Head bent, I concentrated on the silence, willing myself not to become hypnotized by the distractingly crimson stain a foot in front of my hand, even as my long fingers extended almost subconsciously to trace the pattern. A rosebush in full bloom, too vibrant to be hidden by the heavy sheet of snow. A remnant of our longest tradition.

Something hummed in my ears, buzzing, tickling the edges of my mind. I mustn't touch the stain. I must _pay attention_. He was here….

My heart beat furiously with anticipation. Excitement colored my cheeks. Looking across the circle, I regarded our number carefully, and couldn't quite contain the disdainful smile that spread across my chapped lips. I was ready.

I felt my concentration ebb and succumb to whispered musings as I absent-mindedly chewed on the ends of my thick, black hair, a bobbing lifeboat, lost at sea. They said that this was what madness felt like. They knew nothing of my madness.

Padded footsteps in the hallway, echoing footsteps, then the heavy wooden doors crashed open, the noise an explosion, blowing to pieces the heavy silence, and leaving behind it a painful stillness that caused many of the unworthy to fidget and squirm anxiously.

I moved not an inch. I had not a guilty conscience to plague my merciful Lord.

The muffled footsteps grew more and more distinct, though I did not dare raise my head. The steps grew slower, more measured, and eventually they stopped directly in front of me. I could just barely glimpse his feet, through the tangled darkness that clouded my vision, standing within the crimson outline.

"You do not look at me, Bella?" he asked, sounding amused.

Quickly, I scrambled to my feet, still a bit unsteady, and stood before my Lord, but I could not summon the energy to raise my head from its deep bow.

"My Lord –"

"That is enough," he said. His voice carrying a dangerous edge. "You are ready. Snape. You will test the boundaries of Azkaban."

Another smile danced across the skeleton I knew my face had become as my Lord conjured a chair at the front of the room, almost directly behind the gap in the circle I had filled just moments before. Supporting my gaunt frame was a challenge made easier by the sight of my opponent. None other than Severus Snape. From across the arena, he regarded me as if I were a wild beast, warily regarding my stumbling steps, judging my strength with a practiced eye. Around me, an invisible barrier had broken, letting loose a deluge of voices, taunts, laughter. Yet I could sense the uneasy taunts as well, and the nervous laughter. They were afraid of what I had become. Of what Azkaban had made me.

I added my own laughter to the chaos, reveling in their fear, in my newfound power. After fifteen years of being dead, I was alive again. Snape wore a disgusted look, unimpressed. I narrowed my eyes. He would feel fear. I would make my master proud.

I managed to take one step, then another, one foot at a time, confident, haughty. The edges of my vision blurred, and the crowd vanished, leaving me alone in the huge hall with my attacker. There was a faint tug in the back of my mind toward the front of the room, but I could not turn. I had to advance.

Crouching as a cat with a particularly juicy rabbit, I slowly stalked my prey, and then, though I had not used the curse in a decade and a half, the spell jumped to my lips as an old forgotten friend.

"Crucio!"

Snape blocked, expecting the attack, and screamed, "Petrificus totalus!"

I had time to grin before flicking my wand and stopping the spell with a magical barrier.

"Is that the best you can do? Dumbledore's little pet, turned soft!"

Snape responded with a barrage of curses, all restraints broken, not caring if he hurt me. Good. Because I was going to hurt him. Reacting with a ferocity that I could not remember previously knowing, I sidestepped a jet of light and turned on my heel, using the momentum to propel a whip of flame across the great room, encircling my opponent.

I strode ever more confidently down the length of the room and stopped close enough to see the flames reflected in Snape's eyes, which simmered with hatred. It was reckless to get so close. I didn't care. Nothing could hurt me anymore.

Snape parted the circle of fire easily with his wand, a knife sinking into butter. The familiar red closed in on the scene, another old friend. Snape screamed, "Sectumsempara!" He was too close, like he knew he would be. The curse hit my arm, and a crimson fountain erupted to my right. I felt nothing. Brandishing my wand threateningly, I curiously raised my arm to my mouth, tasting the thick, warm liquid before carefully lowering it to my side once more.

Ignoring the gentle drip from my chin, I walked still closer. Snape's eyes widened, and he stood frozen. Confidently pointing my raised wand, I whispered, "Crucio!" Snape was thrown to the ground, panting, sweat shining on my brow. So he would not scream for me?

Somewhere behind me, a voice hissed, "Leave her!" A hush fell over the hall, the only remaining laughter echoing with madness.

"Crucio!" came a voice, a bit louder than before. Snape's body flailed pathetically.

"CRUCIO!" The cry was joined by an agonized moan from the man lying in front of me, unable to bear the pain, desperate for it to end, for it all to end.

I could feel the others stirring around me. But this was not quite good enough. Calmly, I uttered one last spell. "Legilimens!" Deftly sifting through the memories of the semi-conscience man, I found the one I was looking for. A red-headed woman was blasted across a room, her face contorted with a desperate agony that was mimicked by the figure in front of me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to face my Lord, the silent crowd reappearing in an instant, the ritual now complete.

"That is enough," he repeated, "you are ready." I could have sworn I caught the remnants of a thin smile.

Proudly, I strode from the room, not stumbling once.

I could still hear the screams echoing behind me.


End file.
